


Survival Instinct

by Anonymouslazycat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Cannibalism, Dissociation, Food Issues, Gen, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Protective almost everybody at some point, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Vomiting, just a brief mention but it is there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-01 06:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14514828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymouslazycat/pseuds/Anonymouslazycat
Summary: So, in one of the comics, Thanos takes over the universe and keeps Hulk as a sort of guard dog, feeding him the scraps of his conquests. This is sort of a mash-up of that and what happened in the Infinity War movie.Or, in other words: The story of how trying to survive can (almost) kill you.CONTAINS IW SPOILERS





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had to mess around with canon a little bit to make this work (and made some mistakes since I hadn't seen all the movies when writing this...awkward) but the idea was stuck in my head so I really wanted to write it. First bit is basically explaining what I changed, then it's onto the meat (no gross pun intended) of the story.

     Thor had been devastated when he found that Hulk had been left behind on the falling Asgard. Both Banner and Hulk had been good comrades, yes, and also good friends. Loki swore up and down that no, it was not on purpose, Hulk had simply run off as the ship was about to take off, there was no time to go back and find him. Thor mostly believed him- after all, Loki had seemed genuinely surprised and a bit taken aback when he heard the news. And even if it had been Loki’s doing, Thor would never hold that   against him. Loki was Loki, and would always be. For good or for ill.

    So, when Thor saw Hulk being dragged along at Thanos’s side as he boarded the Asgardian ship, wrapped in chair, wild-eyed and bloody, he had been both pleased and angered. His friend was alive, yes, but what sort of life had he had these past months? And when he found Loki secretly undoing some of the links that bound Hulk, it took all that was in him not to laugh in Thanos’s face. For this was the mighty Hulk, champion of Sakaar, even capable of besting a god! Surely he could beat Thanos, once he was unchained. Surely…surely…

     The battle was over. Sort of. Because with half the population gone, there was a bigger battle left to fight. “I’m sorry”’s fell from Bruce’s lips like sand through a sieve, but they couldn’t really mean much. He hadn’t known most of those who were lost, and he had been gone from Earth for so long that he was hopelessly out of touch. That was the perk, he supposed, of having so little. He didn’t have much left to lose. And he still had many of those most important to him- Nat, Steve, Thor, even Tony once he had returned from god-knows-where, bearing a grim face and giving everyone particularly long embraces, shaky breath echoing in the space between his mouth and their necks. Clint was still unheard from, and so was Betty, but there was no evidence to their being dead either.

     That just left Hulk- for in a sense, he was missing as well. It had been odd how he refused to come out and join the battle. Bruce had very few memories, even fewer than normal, of his time between hitting the ground and waking up on Earth. He could recall Thanos’s face, but little else. There was the feeling that something was being hidden from him, and it became more and more disconcerting as the days went on. No returning memories, and not even the smallest tugging of Hulk. When your own mind began keeping secrets from you, that could never be a good sign.

     Still, he didn’t let it bother him. There was more to be done. There was a lab to return to, a newly-energized study of infinity stones to begin in a desperate attempt to find some way, any way, to return what had been taken. This was no time to ponder the inner workings of his psyche.

     Until the dam gave way.

     It was a normal day- or as normal as you could get those days. Bruce was trying, once more, to call Betty. They hadn’t been in contact in years, even then only sparingly, but he just wanted to know she was okay. As usual, she didn’t answer. No voicemail, no nothing. But her name had yet to show on any missing persons reports, so there was a chance. A chance…

     Bruce sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his temples. There was a headache stirring and the unsettled feeling was stronger than usual today. He attributed that to the nightmare he had had the night before- or at least he assumed it was a nightmare. He had woken up in a cold sweat at least, but he didn’t remember a damn thing. And, despite his heart rate racing almost out of control, there had _still_ been no sign of Hulk. Normally that would be a reassurance, one less thing to worry about. But this? This was just getting _weird._

His phone buzzed, and he looked up. First thought- _Betty_. No such luck, though. Still, it was Tony, and that ranked fairly high.

_ Pep and I are getting takeout. Chinese. One of the last places left open. You in? _

_Thought you were still in Malibu_ Bruce texted back.

He heard the door to the lab open, and swiveled around in his chair to see who it was. “Tony? How long have you been back?”

“Not long. Just a day. Hell of a day though, I need a break.” He sat down, backwards, in the chair next to Bruce, resting his chin on the back of the chair. He really did look tired, Bruce noticed. “So? You hungry?”

Bruce wasn’t, really- his appetite had been about nil since Thanos, most likely from stress. But an evening with Tony and Pepper? Not something he was about to turn down. “Sure. When?”

“Now.”

A smile played around the edges of Bruce’s mouth. At least Tony’s spontaneity hadn’t left him.

The evening started out well. It felt almost eerily normal- Bruce half expected to look over and see Steve joking with a red-haired Nat, or Clint trying to balance chopsticks on his nose, or Thor laughing his booming laugh. But times had changed. Tony never invited Steve and Nat over anymore. Thor’s laugh was always tinged with bitterness. And no one knew where the fuck Clint was.

So there Bruce was, musing over changes. Maybe that was what did it. Or maybe it was the nightmare, or just time wearing away at the block Hulk had put up in their shared mind. But something inside him _broke._

It all happened so fast. One moment Tony was talking avidly about work, Pepper was listening half patiently and half concerned. Bruce had just taken a bite of his meal when all of a sudden a strange feeling was coming over him. The room felt cold. A sickening taste of warm iron and salt filled his mouth. A feeling of desperation coiled in his chest, a sheer sense of terror crushing him from the inside. He tried to swallow, coughed, choked. Bile began to rise in his throat. Faintly he could hear familiar voices as he made a mad dash for the bathroom, but he didn’t know what they were saying. Nothing existed, nothing mattered except for that godawful _taste_ that shouldn’t be familiar, couldn’t be familiar, no, he wasn’t remembering what he thought he was, no, no, this wasn’t happening, this Was. Not. Happening.

He barely reached the toilet before his stomach began to empty itself. Screams from a language he didn’t understand echoed in his ears. Something was wrapped around his neck, tightening, choking. _No, no, no. Not happening._ Shaking hands gripped cool porcelain as he tried desperately to ground himself. _Not real, not real, not real._

A jarring knock on the door made him jump, but it also helped snap him back to reality. Then came one of the familiar voices, only this time he could actually make out what it was saying.

“Bruce? You okay? I’m coming in.”

The door creaked open and Bruce had a sudden realization of just how much of a _mess_ he must look. Rumpled clothes, wide eyes, gasping for air with breath that reeked of vomit. Damn it, he didn’t want to be seen like this, especially not by Tony. Tony had enough shit to deal with without having to worry about Bruce’s increasingly fragile sanity.

“Christ, what happened?” Tony asked, kneeling down next to Bruce’s trembling form. “Was it the food? I’ve gotten food there before with no problem but hey, things change…” He was clearly talking more to fill the silence and less as a legitimate question. Bruce knew that Tony knew damn well what a full-blown panic response looked like, there was no fooling him.

“I, uh…” Bruce flattened and flexed his hands against the hard tile floor, trying to stay in the present. “I don’t think it was the food. I haven’t been feeling right all day, and…” He trailed off. A half-truth, that was better than nothing. “I probably just need to home go and lie down.” Luckily Tony had offered him a space in the Tower, so he didn’t have to worry about trying to get somewhere feeling like this. “I’ll be fine.”

Tony’s brow furrowed. He didn’t look convinced. “If there’s something you’re not telling me…”

“Really, there’s not. Just need to lie down.” Another half-truth.

Tony still didn’t look satisfied, but thankfully he let it go. “Fine. Just…text me in the morning or something. And don’t feel like you have to come to work if you aren’t feeling well,  I know it’s important but missing a day won’t matter, we’ve got people working on it, even with half the company gone, there’s….”

“Tony.” Bruce began to stand up, steadying himself on the sink with one hand. “You’re babbling again.” He decided not to point out the obvious hypocrisy of _Tony_ asking him not to overwork himself.

“Yeah, I know.” Tony sighed, standing up as well. “Still text me though. I mean it.”

 The look in his eyes said _Please be okay._ Bruce only hoped he wouldn’t let Tony down, because the sinking feeling he had said _This was never okay._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter goes off on a bit of a tangent, but it IS relevant I swear. Mostly.

 

Two main things happened to Bruce over the next few weeks.

  1. His memories of Hulk’s time with Thanos came back with a vengeance.
  2. He began a new project in his lab.



Oddly enough, the two were very connected.

The first, the memories, was simple. However, _simple_ was not a synonym of _easy_ or _manageable._ The memories came as they usually did after turning back from the Hulk, in bits and pieces. A certain smell that made him tense, a light touch or sound that made his throat tighten an his hands shake. It was like being a frayed wire. That was, unfortunately, pretty normal. He had learned to deal. But this, though? This was different. Because this time, it wasn’t just _Banner_ who had been scared and small and helpless. It was _Hulk._

_(Must be quite a wake-up from living like a king on Sakaar,_ Bruce thought to himself bitterly)

The worst came in a nightmare, exactly six days after he had panicked in form of Tony. This time it was no mere cold sweat and unsettled feeling. No, it was full-color, jarring red and grisly white and gamma-green. This time he woke up knowing exactly, _exactly_ what had happened when Hulk was with Thanos. Bruce leaned over the side of the bed and retched, but his stomach was already empty. He had struggled to eat the past few days- everything had had that hot-iron taste he now knew was that of raw blood and sinew.

_Why_? He asked- nay, begged- himself. _Why, why why_

After that, one by one, things began to slip out of his life. He ate less and less. He slept less and less. He even stopped trying to call Betty. If she was still alive- and that was a big _if_ \- he didn’t think he could face her with good conscience. She had always believed that the Hulk wasn’t a monster, and over the years Bruce had slowly started to agree. But after Thanos, things were different. What Hulk had done while in Thanos’s clutches were no longer the actions of mindless rage. This was intentional, this was purposeful. He looked into their eyes, heard them pleading, and still killed them. He needed to eat, so he ate. He needed to live, so he lived. Strong always won, and weak perished.

Bruce found the whole thing revolting.

So that led him to the second part, the new project. Or, not so much _new_ as _newly opened_. It had been something he started in secret shortly after joining the Avengers, but had disposed of almost as quickly. Fortunately, a good scientist always kept backups of his data. In this case, very well-protected backups. It took him almost ten tries just to get into the files. And, after opening them, it took almost as many weeks to turn the shadow of an idea into a workable formula. _Not to mention the many, many vials of blood_ , he thought bitterly as he rubbed the sore spot on his arm. But finally, a sense of triumph rose in his chest as he looked at the computer display. This could work, this could do it, this could…

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door to the lab open. Quickly, he swiped away all evidence of what he had been working on. Not quickly enough. It was Tony, and he had noticed.

“What’s that?”

“Just some ideas.”

“Looked like gamma tech. Is that a new angle for the Infinity project? Hadn’t thought about it that way, might work…” He pondered this for a moment. “Bit obvious for you, though, huh? Working with gamma, I mean. But that is what the Tesseract emitted.” He shook his head, likely in order to clear it. “Anyways. Great idea, not what I came to talk about.” He tossed a silver flash drive towards Bruce. Bruce, whose reflexes were not at top form from lack of food and sleep, missed by an embarrassing margin. Instead, the flash drive glanced off the side of his glasses and landed on the floor with a _plink_.

“Shit, sorry. That was supposed to be cool.” Tony said as Bruce scrambled to pick up the drive. “It’s a mission. Nat and Steve are tracking down some ex-Hydra nutcase in Alaska who wants to, and I quote, ‘rebuild the fallen universe in his own image’” Things like this were becoming more and more common after Thanos snapped his fingers. People saw a broken world, they wanted to fix it. Usually by killing even more people. “Turns out, for a nutcase he’s actually pretty smart. They want your help stopping him.”

“Mine, or the other guy?”

“Yours. This guy’s working with radiation and biotechnical duplication, it’s right up your alley.”

“So why didn’t they contact me?”

Tony paused. “Okay, okay, they asked for me. It might get dangerous, and since they don’t know if you can still, y’know…” He made a vague gesture that Bruce assumed was meant to indicate Hulking-out. “They thought it would be safer if I went. But I don’t want to go to _Alaska_ _,_ for chrissakes. I’m supposed to be meeting Pepper in Malibu tomorrow! Which would you pick, hmm?” He leaned against the desk and sighed. “Okay, and maybe I don’t want to see Steve. We haven’t really talked, and…” He trailed off.  “Besides, I have faith in you. Big guy’ll come out when he’s ready. Plus, you haven’t left the tower in what, three days? Two? FRIDAY, how long has it been?”

_“Four days, seventeen hours, sir”_

Tony let out a long whistle. “Wow. Okay, that settles it. Get packing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The flight was long. Bruce busied himself by reading up on the mission. It looked straightforward enough at first- get in, get out, figure out what the hell this guy was doing, get out. Analyze the data back at base. The only real danger seemed to be getting trampled by a radioactive moose. Of course, if Nat and Steve felt the need to go out there personally, it must be more complicated than that. As it turned out, he was right. On the surface it just looked like he was trying to clone himself using a strange bio-memetic gel, and build a bomb with amazing capacity. But he had also managed to get his hands on a _lot_ of information about infinity stones. Bruce even recognized some of his own data, as well as Tony’s and Shuri’s. If this guy could manage to get a hold of top-secret research, then what the hell else was he capable of?

Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead, the words on the tablet in front of him blurring together. He was not at peak performance right now, running off a granola bar, two glucose tabs, and maybe four hours of restless sleep. Tony probably _would_ have been a more practical choice, if the conflict between him and Steve wasn’t an issue. But really, Bruce was still grateful for the break. He needed something to get him out of his head, and lunatics with god complexes tended to do that.

Finally, they landed in front of an unassuming cabin overlooking a low cliff. It didn’t look like a base at all, at least until he stepped inside. Generators and batteries were everywhere, hooked up to computers and sensors and all sorts of technology. You could barely see the rough wooden walls. Over in one corner, next to a staticky monitor, stood Nat and Steve.

  “Hey Bruce. Glad you could join us.” Nat said curtly, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked serious, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. “Maybe you can make some sense of these readings. I’ve been working on them, but it’s not exactly my area of expertise. Or his.” She at Steve.

“No problem.” Bruce said, shrugging his duffel bag off his shoulder. “What do you have?”

“Look at this…”

He spent the next few hours blissfully engaged. It was quite a puzzle, the data they were getting. It seemed to him that the attempt at building a bomb was going horribly, horribly wrong, but someone with the intellect that this guy seemed to have shouldn’t be making mistakes like these…unless…

“It looks like…oh my god. An infinity stone. He’s trying to make a new infinity stone.” Bruce said softly. “No, no, that can’t be right...”

His thoughts got cut off by a noise at the cabin door. He looked up. A knock? No one was expected, the proximity alarm hadn’t gone off. Who- or what- could it be?

“Shit.” Whispered Steve, breaking the silence again. And that was the last thing before the world seemed to switch to slow motion. There was a blast, and the door fell off its hinges. Two people were standing there, dressed all in black and holding very large guns. Nat grabbed her own weapons. Steve grabbed his shield. Bruce simple stood there, waiting, watching. His heart rate had spiked, but he couldn’t sense the Hulk at all. Nat yelled for him to get down, but he didn’t move. He could see one of the figures squeezing down on the trigger, aiming towards him, and the first thought he had was _Oh god, thank you, thank you._

Then the bullet pierced his skull, and everything went…green.

_Damnit._  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...this chapter mostly turned into me just getting out some of my H/C and angst ya-yas out so I could write proper plot again. Hope others like it too?

His first thought upon waking up was _not this again._

The second was _ouch._

Bruce was lying half-curled, half-sprawled on the cold, hard ground. Chilled wind blew around him. _Thank god it’s summer_ he thought vaguely. Nat’s voice filtered in through his hazy mind. “Hey. Long time no see.”

Wearily, Bruce opened his eyes. Pink rays from a sunrise greeted him, glaring brightly into his eyes, which he then shut again with a groan. Hadn’t the sun already risen that day? Did it really need to do it _again?_ Seemed a tad excessive, in his opinion.

He eased his eyes open a second time, squinting and blinking, and sat up on his elbows. He and Nat were sitting in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by broken trees. His pants were in tatters on his hips, but at least they were still there. “How long?” he asked, not sure what kind of answer he hoped to hear.

“About a day,” Nat replied. “Steve left last night once the big guy was a little calmer, to get what we found back to Wakanda. I stayed behind to wait for you.”

“By yourself?” Bruce asked, alarmed.

Nat just shrugged. “He didn’t seem very dangerous at the time. If anything, I’d have said he was tired.” She reached down a hand to help Bruce to his feet. “He mostly just sort of…paced, back and forth. Ripped up a few trees. But it was strange. The only thing he really seemed angry at was _you_.”

“Mmm.” Bruce mumbled. The forest was swaying unpleasantly. “Yeah, we’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.”

“Well, at least he came through this time.” It sounded casual, but the way she was looking at Bruce seemed to imply that she knew a bit more. She had seen the whole thing happen, she knew he hadn’t moved out of the way when he saw the gun. She knew.

Nat led him over to a fallen tree, one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder. Bruce was leaning on her more than he wanted to admit. “I called for a jet as soon as I saw you start to turn back,” she said as they sat down, side by side. “Someone should be here soon.”

Bruce just nodded distractedly. It was all too familiar, this situation. The bullet hitting his head. Waking up in the cold. That looming feeling of _what next_? Just too damn familiar, all of it. The only two saving graces were Natasha’s warm presence and the thought of what he had been working on in the lab. He just had to keep reminding himself of that. _You’re not alone. And you’re not hopeless._

He wrapped his arms tight around himself and shivered. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was his mental state, but he usually didn’t feel quite this bad after a transformation. His mouth was dry, his head was spinning, and everything just generally _ached_.

“The jet will have blankets.” Natasha interrupted Bruce’s meandering thoughts. “And food. Big guy kept wanting to go hunt for something, but everything around here is probably irradiated. Figured you wouldn’t want that.”

 _Right. Food._ “Thanks,” Bruce said, swallowing thickly. He knew Hulk hunted and scavenged, that was no news. Simple equation- growing mass and creating force took lots of energy. But somehow it felt much darker now that Bruce knew it wasn’t just animals he would take down. Bruce gripped tight to the fallen log they sat upon, knuckled turning white as memories flashed into his mind. The begging. The screaming. The _crunching_.

“Bruce? You okay?”

He looked up to see Nat eyeing him closely, not even bothering to mask the concern on her face.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Just cold.”

Another half-lie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully the jet came soon after. Bruce guiltily let Nat support him as they made their way inside. Guilty because he still felt as if his very skin was tainted, poisoned. _You are what you eat?_

Ugh. Not a good thought. He tried to focus on Nat instead, easing himself into her gentle yet firm touch. It also helped that he wasn’t quite sure how stable he was standing on his own- or, really, how stable he was in general. Mentally or physically. Once onboard the jet, Bruce didn’t even bother trying to find a seat. Instead, as usual, he huddled on the floor next to a wall, head leaning back as if to rest but eyes still half-open to observe his surroundings. His skin was tingling like he had been filled with electricity, and his muscles were still twitching underneath. Nat left him there for a moment, then came back bearing a grey blanket and a small bottle of what looked like off-brand protein shake.

“You need this,” she said matter-of-factly, handing him the items. Then she sat down besides him, legs folded neatly and gracefully in sharp contrast to the way he had simply slumped to the ground. They were in the very back, as far from the pilot as possible, yet Nat’s voice was still quiet when she asked once more “You okay?”

Bruce closed his eyes. “I’d be better if people stopped asking me that.”

“Sorry.”

There was a silence as Bruce fumbled to pull the blanket awkwardly around his shoulders and uncapped the protein drink. He sniffed it cautiously. Sweet. Like vanilla. He could handle that. Glancing over at Natasha, he took a swig. She was still eyeing him carefully, but her face was unreadable.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bruce said, with a light smile so she knew he wasn’t actually upset.

“Neither am I.”

Bruce looked away again.

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride, but every so often Bruce would catch Nat looking at him. And every time their eyes met, he turned away out of shame, memories of terrified pleading still echoing off the inside of his head, sometimes so loudly he was surprised she couldn’t hear it too. If she could, would she still stay?

Would any of them?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief summary- ANGST ANGST ANGST  
> Seriously, I said I got all my angst out in the last chapter, but apparently???? Nope.
> 
> Also, this chapter is super-short. I haven't been doing hardly any writing lately- still trying to get back in the swing of it- and I just wanted to post something before all y'all forgot I existed.

3:00 AM

Three-oh-fucking-clock _ante meridiam_

Bruce groaned, rolling over so he didn’t have to stare at the clock anymore. He hadn’t slept at all that night. Or the last few nights, actually, but that had been on purpose. This? This was just shitty. He had at least slept fairly well after coming back from his mission in Alaska, finally getting the solid night’s rest his body needed. But the next night he had woken up to dreams of chains and blood and had decided, right then and there, that his body’s needs could kindly go and fuck off.

   His stomach growled and twisted against itself in vicious complaint. Food hadn’t exactly been high priority either. He curled up and wrapped his arms tight against his midsection, hoping to quell the unpleasant noise. It wasn’t as if he was doing it on purpose, trying to starve himself to death or anything- although, to be fair, he _had_ considered it. It was just that nearly everything he put in his mouth turned to the taste of hot blood, a bitter and salty reminder of everything that was supremely fucked up about this whole situation. As he stared at the ceiling, Bruce wished desperately on all the stars and candles and whatever-fucking-else there was that he could go back and stop it all from happening, somehow. Maybe if he was stronger, if his mind was more powerful than Hulk’s, if he hadn’t jumped during the battle on Asgard, if, if, if.

   A buzz from his phone made him wince, the sound reverberating against his eardrums in the quiet room. Who in the hell would be awake at three-oh-fucking-clock in the morning.

Probably Tony.

He checked it. Yep, Tony had texted him. _Need you in your lab ASAP_

Bruce’s fingers fumbled sleepily over the keys. _Some people sleep, Tony _

_ Not you  _

Bruce decided not to dignify that with a response. Instead, he just sent off a quick _See you in a minute_. Whatever Tony had going on, at least it might be better than staring at the clock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce’s mind immediately changed when he walked into the lab and saw the deep frown on Tony’s face and the way his arms crossed over his chest. _Oh, crap._

“Is…is something wrong?” Bruce asked hesitantly.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“...And?”

“ _And_ I decided to come here. To look more into that gamma experiment you were working on. It piqued my interest.” He paused. There was an odd expression on his face, something Bruce couldn’t identify. “It was password protected. What’s more, the files were only accessed at times you were off the clock.” He shrugged. “I got curious.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down. “Oh god, you hacked into my stuff.”

“I hacked into your stuff.” Tony confirmed.

“So, what? You asked me here to what, apologize? Could have waited until morning.” He tried to sound casual, but his whole body was clenched. He knew what was in those files. It was…

“A fucking _suicide plan_.” Tony said.

“It’s…not what you think.” Bruce said weakly. But Tony saw right through _that_.

Tony pulled over one of the nearby screens. “Specimen showed significant cell degradation well before gamma response set in,” he read aloud. “In other words? _It kills you_.”

“Yeah.” Bruce admitted, trying to avoid Tony’s worried eyes. He began twisting his hands together nervously. _Damn, it was too early for this_.

Tony took a few steps forward towards where Bruce was standing. “Bruce, just tell me what’s wrong. Just let me help.” He reached out a hand to put it on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce pulled away. That simple bit of comfort, coupled with the apparent pain on Tony’s face, made his chest ache. Maybe it would be easier if people knew, then maybe they wouldn’t have to _care_ so much.

Tony lowered his hand and stepped back again, looking a bit hurt. Guilt welled in Bruce’s chest once more, causing him to look away. He still didn’t say anything, so Tony kept talking. “Look, I’m not the only one who’s worried about you. Pepper’s worried, she’s told me. And after that mission, in Alaska? Natasha called me. Asked how you were doing, if you were okay.” He began talking faster, louder. “How do I answer that? You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating- don’t think I haven’t noticed-and now this?” He gestured towards the screen. “Bruce, this scares me. No, you know what? This _terrifies_ me.”

Tony’s voice was loud and frantic, and Bruce’s headache was intensifying along with it. The lights all of a sudden seemed far too bright, and the room was beginning to tilt. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Tony was talking, and Bruce was trying, really trying, to listen, but the lights and the sound and the sheer _guilt_ made it hard to focus. He could feel himself retreating inwards, his mind turning to an age-old coping mechanism of _get the fuck out of dodge_ because someone was yelling and the room was spinning and…

He looked up and Tony was standing right next to him looking…well, the only appropriate term Bruce could think of was _scared shitless._ Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Had he said something that Bruce had missed? Something important?

“Bruce? Is something wrong? Oh god, something’s wrong.” There was a slight tremor in Tony’s hands as he spoke. Boy, were the two of them a mess. It felt like a goddamned Mental Health Problems circus in that lab, and Bruce right now was the star attraction. Well, he had been in this circus before, and right now he wanted _out._

“I have to go.” he said. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine, I just need to go.” He turned to leave.

“Wait a second.” Tony said. “Just…promise me you’ll delete those files. Please.”

Bruce paused and bit his lip. “Yeah. Sure.”

He was becoming an expert on half-lies, and this one was the biggest one of all. Because he _would_ delete the files, that was true. But what Tony didn’t know, that was the most important piece.

Bruce already had two vials of the toxin, synthesized and sitting in his closet.

Waiting to be used.


	5. Chapter 5

 

For the next four days, Bruce threw himself into his work as much as possible, trying to get as much done as he could before…well, before he was no longer around to do it. It also served as a good distraction from what was going on around him.

Meanwhile, Tony had seemingly taken it upon himself to be responsible for Bruce’s well-being, sine Bruce was doing such a shit job himself. It was tempting to point out the hypocrisy, since Tony was legendary for his own sleepless nights, but Bruce decided against it. He let Tony keep an eye on him, pretended to take his advice, and put on his best I’m-doing-okay face whenever Tony was around. _Least I can do_ , he figured. Knowing someone cared so much just made everything hurt worse.

   At least Hulk seemed to be keeping in line. Actually, he didn’t seem to give a damn that Bruce was about to end their mutual existence. Last time, he had metaphorically kicked and screamed, fighting at every chance to surface and take control. Now? It was almost as if he had given up. Given in. Like he was ready for this to end as much as Bruce was.

   So, for once, Bruce had the wheel.

   It didn’t feel as good as he had thought it would.

   By the end of four days, Bruce could feel his sanity slipping. But finally, an opportunity came. Tony and Pepper were going to a charity event somewhere far-off, so they wouldn’t be able to…interrupt anything. No one else he was close to would be coming to the Tower- the only other person he really knew in New York right now was Steve, and needless to say he wasn’t likely to drop by. Bruce would be alone.

   Or, sort of alone. As Bruce walked silently down the empty halls to his apartment that evening, he still was trying to act casual, normal.  Didn’t want to give the security cameras anything to pick up on. Luckily there were no cameras in his actual apartment. Tony had argued against that, since it _did_ reduce the Tower’s ability as a “smart home”, but Bruce had stayed adamant. He’d had enough of people tracking his movements. Sometimes it was good to have some peace and quiet.

   That was all he ever wanted.

   It was an odd feeling, being about to kill yourself. Almost an out-of-body, trancelike sensation. Time seemed to stop, actions seemed to blur together, yet at the same time every second was pointedly _felt_. It was almost as if his soul had already left his body, and was now waiting for the rest of him to catch up. Time slowed down, sped up, slowed down as he filled the syringe, tied the tourniquet, found a vein. Eventually, time slowed down so much he thought it might stop.

 And then it did.

The needle was resting against a bright-blue surging vein, but it didn’t go in. Something was stopping him. Nothing was stopping him. Everything was stopping him.

He sat there for several moments, just looking at the needle. He could do it so quickly. So easily. And then it would be over, done, no more of this, no more of anything.

Thoughts passed through his mind, unbidden. His own form, writhing on the floor, foaming at the mouth, breaking apart from the inside. Tony, stepping in after a long flight, seeing him lifeless on the floor. His reaction. Pepper’s reaction. Everybody’s reaction.

It certainly wasn’t how he ever wanted to go.

 _Just do it!_ His mind screamed at him, at the same time as it flashed the images into his mind. Choking. Dying. Tony. Nat. Steve. Thor. Clint. _Just do it, why won’t you do it?_

Slowly, with hand’s that still felt not-quite-his, he set down the syringe and picked up his phone.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

The question of whom to call was thankfully easy. Quickly, knowing he would continue to sit there paralyzed by indecision if he didn’t, Bruce dialed Steve’s number. The phone rang once, twice, three times. _Don’t let him answer. Please let him answer._

He answered. “Bruce? It’s good to hear from you, we barely managed to talk last time we saw each other.”

 _Yeah, cause I let myself get shot in the face._ “Good to hear from you too.” He swallowed hard. “How’ve things been? I was surprised to hear you were in New York, thought you’d be working in Wakanda with Nat.” His voice sounded so _normal_ , like they were just having a chat, like he completely wasn’t hanging on the edge of life and death or anything.

“Well, yeah, the place where Nat’s staying…let’s just say it holds some memories I don’t want to get into right now.” He paused. “Were you just calling to catch up, or is there business?”

“No, no particular reason.” He was getting a lot of practice at this lying business. “Listen, if you’re busy, I can go.”

“No, not busy. Actually, it’s nice to talk. Amazing how lonely you can feel in a city this big.”

“Mhm.” Bruce wasn’t sure what to say. He was still staring at the syringe.

There was a long, awkward pause. Then “How are you doing, Bruce? No offense, but you didn’t look so great last time we met.”

“I…um…” Bruce hesitated. Now or never. “Not that good.” It hurt to admit, but it was a relief. “I, uh, actually have something I want to talk to you about.”

He closed his eyes and began talking.  Words slipped from his mouth slowly at first, then faster. The toxin. The syringe. What he planned to do. His last sentence ended with a pause, the weight of everything he had said hanging in the air, heavy as lead. Then:

“I’m going to come get you.” Steve said, and an unnamable emotion filled Bruce’s body. “Can you…can you stay safe until I get there? I can stay on the line.”

“Don’t use your phone while driving.” Bruce said numbly. “I think that’s illegal.”

“Pretty sure I’ve done worse.”

Bruce shook his head, even though he knew Steve couldn’t see. “No, no, I’ll be okay.”

He couldn’t even tell his own lies from the truth anymore.

 

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

It felt like hours in between when Bruce set the phone down again and when Steve finally showed up. In reality, it probably wasn’t. Or maybe it was. Time didn’t exist anymore.

At first he tried staying where he was. That was, most definitely, not a good idea. He had made the call, but the syringe was still there. _Pick it up_ his mind whispered. _You could still do it, there’s still time, it worked so fast in the test…_

He picked it up.

He put it down.

He put his head in his hand and groaned. This wasn’t working. He had to leave. It wasn’t even a matter of protecting _himself_ at this point- he’d be willing to die screaming if it meant those were the last screams he’d ever have to hear. But he couldn’t make Steve find him like that. No. No. Steve was a good man, he didn’t deserve that.

And that was how he ended up outside which, while probably safer, wasn’t much better. Pacing back and forth in front of Stark Tower wasn’t exactly the least attention-drawing thing to do. At least nowadays most people walked with their heads down.

So he paced. Back and forth, back and forth, wringing his hands because the constant movement was just about the only thing keeping him from breaking down completely. This could have been all over by now, he thought to himself. But he even ruined that. Coward. Coward.

Bruce stopped pacing and forced himself to take a shaky breath, not even realizing he’d been holding it. He stopped twisting his hands and instead squeezed them into fists, knuckles going white as his fingernails bit into his palms. He could hardly feel it, which unsettled him. _Keep it together, Banner, keep it together._

He stood like that for what could have been seconds or minutes. Then there was the nearby roar of a motorbike, pulling it right to where Bruce was and all of a sudden Steve was there, with those worried puppy-dog eyes he saved for special occasions. Bruce wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that Steve had actually shown.

He wasn’t sure he felt anything at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's real short, kind of an in-betweener, but I should have a proper chapter up fairly soon.

Later, Bruce would barely remember the ride from where he lived to where Steve was staying. Reality only started again when he was on Steve’s couch. He was hunched over, guarded, hands twisting and untwisting as he stared at the _hideous_ carpet. Reality hit, and it hit him like a fucking freight train.

_I’m supposed to be dead by now_

Bruce didn’t know what to do with that fact. Yes, he should be dead. And he wasn’t. And…and he really didn’t know what else to think. He just wanted to get angry, to let it overtake him and numb him out until he couldn’t feel any other emotion but blind rage, because that would be so much easier than dealing with what he was feeling right then. But anger meant Hulk, and that was most definitely not an option right now.

His fingers found their was to his wrist, where a blue vein was pulsating. A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed it down.

 _I’m supposed to be dead._   

“Can I…get you anything?” Steve asked him hesitantly. Bruce looked up in surprise, remembering that there was in fact someone else there. Steve continued awkwardly. “I mean, I don’t have tea, or coffee, or anything like that, but…” He trailed off, looking lost. “Milk?”

Bruce didn’t say anything at first. There was a long pause as they watched each other. Finally, Bruce decided that he ought to at least say _something,_ no matter what it was.

In retrospect, that was quite incorrect.

“I should have done it.” Bruce said softly.

“What?”

“I should have done it,” he repeated. “I…I…I shouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Steve said gently. “I’m glad you called.”

Bruce just shook his head slowly. How had his life gotten this fucked up?

The lump in his throat had returned with a vengeance. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard once more. _Nope. Nope. Not going to start crying, not here, not now. Not ever._

He could feel the couch cushions shift slightly as Steve sat down next to him, feel a warm weight on his shoulder from a hand being cautiously placed there. And it _hurt_. It hurt so fucking bad that another person gave enough of a shit about Bruce to try and comfort him even when he didn’t even deserve to be _alive_. Steve didn’t know a damned thing, and Bruce had _let_ him stay in the dark, because if he knew then he would surely be as disgusted as Bruce was. Selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

Tears brimmed in Bruce’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. _Not now, not ever_. Steve handed him a handkerchief from his pocket, because of _course_ Steve was the only one left in 20-fucking-18 who still carried a cloth handkerchief. Bruce gripped it like a lifeline. _Not now, not now._

A sob shook through him, unbidden. Damn. Steve wrapped his arm fully around Bruce’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer, which only seemed to escalate the situation. The weight of everything that had happened, not just that day but in Bruce’s whole fucking lifetime, pressed down on him so hard he thought he might suffocate. It was so awful that he almost forgot to be humiliated.

And so he cried. He cried hard, harder than he had in a long time. He cried until all that was left were shaky small breaths and a snot-covered handkerchief in his hands. He cried so much he wore himself out.

(not that that took much, granted)

It had started growing dark outside, and Bruce didn’t have it in him to argue when Steve offered him a blanket and pillow. Instead, he cocooned himself in the soft fabric, laid down, and finally _slept_.

That was his next mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I done being evil to Bruce? 
> 
> Nope. Not by a long shot. 
> 
> Am I having a great time?
> 
> Absolutely.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, so much for "it'll be up soon". Mostly cause I had to rewrite it like 3 times and it's still too short and I'm still not happy with it. Bleh.

There were bones. Bones everywhere, stacked, scattered, splintered. Some were dry and crumbling, most shiny-wet with blood and saliva, bearing fresh teeth marks. The room reeked of rotting death, and the scent burned at his nose like acid. But there was no escape. Even without the deep pit he was entrenched in, even without the supernaturally-strong chains which bound him tight, the horrible odor clung to his skin and rafted on his breath. Large green hands pawed through gory remains, hoping there was a scrap left to eat. Hunger gnawed at him, sharpening his senses to prepare for a hunt. Only there was no hunt, no fighting. Only shadows in the dark corners who stood and jeered at him. He heard a door open, saw another shadow emerge. A growl sounded from his throat at the sight. The shadow approached until it’s malformed face was staring down at him in the pit. The figure was dragging something, something writhing and crying. “Thanos has a present for you.” A bundle was tossed down the deep hole, landing next to him. A woman, tied up. She was bleeding heavily already, and the scent made his stomach twist in both hunger and disgust. Her eyes were open as he picked her up. Her eyes were open as he slammed her back down. There was a sharp crack, as if someone had broke open a particularly large egg. Her body was crushed almost beyond recognition, except… Her eyes were open. Bruce jerked awake, gasping. His heart was hammering, and even in the dark a quick check showed green creeping up his hands. Shit. He huddled in a ball, trying to regulate his breathing and slow down his rapid-fire pulse. It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. It hadn’t happened. Except it had. He took a deep breath, in-out. The green on his hands was fading, but he was still fighting down nausea. It was okay, just a dream, just a stupid dream. The mantra wasn’t convincing at all. It didn’t really matter if the dream wasn’t real, what had happened certainly was. It was real for him, it was real for Hulk, and it was most definitely real for the people he had… eaten Bruce’s stomach lurched and he barely had time enough to figure out which door led to the bathroom and rush inside before being sick. God, he hated this. God, he hated himself. He sunk down onto the linoleum floor, still shaking. Absentmindedly he found himself rubbing at his neck, his wrists, in a physical memory of the chains that had bound him there. His mind was starting to tunnel in deeper and deeper into itself, like his sanity was being pulled into a black hole. This, he knew, was a route that led to Very Bad Things. There was a screeching sound somewhere nearby, which he realized later was likely just a creaky door, but it still made him flinch and curl tighter in on himself. His mind raced, shadowsinthecornersomeonelaughingbloodonhishands. Then Steve’s face appeared in the doorway. “Is everything…okay?” “Fine, yeah, everything’s fine.” Bruce responded automatically, words feeling as if they were being said by a stranger, Shit, he was losing it. Steve stepped inside the bathroom, kneeling down next to where Bruce was sitting. “You want to try being honest with me?” Bruce didn’t answer, too busy trying to remember how to breathe. “Look, I’m just worried.” Steve said gently, when he got no response. “Yesterday you said you were about to take some kind of injection. Today, you’re sick. I just wanted to make sure I…got to you in time.” Oh. Right. “It’s not that. It’s, um…” Goddamnit, why were words so hard? “Memories.” This seemed to activate something in Steve. “Wait here,” he said, getting up. He left for a moment, and when he came back he was holding a small grey fabric pouch. “Here.” he said, kneeling down next to Bruce again and holding it out. “Might help.” Bruce was thoroughly confused, but took the pouch anyways. He could taste rust in his mouth, chest tight and heart rate probably well into danger territory. If this whatever-it-was could come between him and freaking out, blacking out, and probably taking out a few city blocks? Yeah, he’d give it a try. The fabric was slightly coarse to the touch. He rubbed his thumb along it, trying to focus on that and not on the pounding of his pulse. Much to his surprise, the pouch had a scent- something floral maybe, or herbal. He wasn’t sure. But, more importantly, it seemed to be working in bringing his mind back into the present- helped along, to be fair, when Steve took Bruce’s other hand and squeezed it gently. It took a bit, but the rust taste slowly dissipated and was replaced by regular sour-bitterness. Unpleasant yes, but also real. “You with me?” Steve asked. He sounded oddly sad. “…yeah.” Bruce said, after a pause. He ran his thumb along the fabric pouch again, feeling its texture. “What is this anyways?” “Lavender.” “And you just…had it sitting around.” “It used to be Bucky’s.” Steve explained. “He…he had times when he’d forget where he was, who he was. Thinking he was back with HYDRA. Scary to watch from the outside, I can only imagine what it was like for him.” He sighed, looking pensive. “Anyways, that was one of the things he used. To help pull himself out of it before he got too far gone. Figured it might help you, too.” “I’m sorry.” Bruce said. Words didn’t seem enough, but it was all he had to offer. And it was the truth- he was sorry, so fucking sorry that bad things happened to good people, good things happened to bad people, that friends sometimes turned to dust before your eyes. The universe could be a real bitch. They sat in silence for a few moments, both lost in thought, two trainwrecks on separate tracks. Then, the stillness was interrupted by Steve’s phone buzzing in his front pocket. “Isn’t it the middle of the night?” Bruce asked. “Early morning, actually. But I don’t know who would…” He pulled out his phone and trailed off, frowning. “This can’t be right.” “Who is it?” “It’s Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinkin about messing around with different POVs next chapter. Idk. 
> 
> Also, fun fact: Lavender actually is apparently really good as far as grounding yourself, preventing panic attacks/flashbacks/dissociation/etc according to several people I know (luckily I don't need to know from experience).   
> So, accuracy! and consider that a protip for you/people you know.


End file.
